


Satan's Due

by TheUnpredictableMuse



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen, Ready or Not (2019)
Genre: Crossover, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 10:51:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21456850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUnpredictableMuse/pseuds/TheUnpredictableMuse
Summary: Crossover between Ready or Not and Pride and Prejudice (Regency). One shot.
Relationships: Lydia Bennet/George Wickham
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	Satan's Due

Mr. George Wickham congratulated himself on marrying the young, impressionable Lydia Bennet. She worshipped the ground he walked on and he relished the power he held over her silly, barely educated mind.

  
“Mrs. Wickham.” He placed his finger under her chin and lifted her head till she looked him directly in the eye. “You are ravishing.”  
Her cheeks burned red. “Wicky.”

  
He buried his hatred of the pet name and forced a convincing smile. “Lydia.”

  
“George.” She whispered and leaned in for another kiss.

  
The Bennets, Bingleys, and Darcys gave the newlywed couple their privacy for the hour. After that, they were expected to attend the gathering and partake in the food and games that Mrs. Frances Bennet fretted to fit in the limited hours before sundown.

  
He tried to disrobe her, which she quickly stopped him and kissed him without reservation and shyness. “Tonight, after the family initiation.” She said.

  
He paused and considered the seriousness of the reply wrapped in the innocence of an immature, imprudent teenaged female. “As you wish.” He relented.

  
She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room and to the small sitting room in the back of the house. A giggle preceded her lusty intentions, cut off by her father as he stepped out from the pantry with a fresh bottle of wine.

  
“Lydie, child, why are you not playing Loo with your mother?” He questioned.

  
“We were- “

  
“Of course. You were looking for the wine same as I.” Noah Bennet threw his arm around George Wickham’s shoulders and pulled him away from Lydia. “We will be in my study for the next half hour, Lydia.”

  
“But, Papa- “

  
George Wickham glanced back at her and then her at her father, a man of slim build and surprising strength. The men walked away from the small sitting room and toward the personal study that Noah Bennet lived in whenever he wasn’t tending to his tenants’ needs. She stomped her feet and resigned herself to her mother’s and sisters’ company while Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley lingered on the fringes of the drawing room as they were want to do.

  
She shrunk under the bear hugs of Kitty, Mary, and Elizabeth.

  
“Welcome to becoming a married woman.” Elizabeth beamed at her in complete, nonjudgmental approval.

  
Bowing under the general uplifting atmospheric mood, Lydia soughed. She would have to wait until after the family initiation to become intimate with her husband.  
Holding her head up, she beamed. “Thank you, Lizzy.”

  
Kitty clung to her and wistfully stared at the pianoforte. “One day I will find my handsome gentleman too.”

  
“One day you will find someone that you wish to live the rest of your days attached to in the holiest of relations, and you will be grateful you chose wisely.” Elizabeth assured her younger sister. “Lydie, join Mama. Jane and she are about to start and a third is necessary.”

  
“And I will be playing as well.” Kitty hung on her little sister, desperate for the connection to hold strong while Lydia lingered in Longbourn against her will. Mr. Wickham was taking Lydia to the North to join the military, and Lydia would be traveling with him. It broke their mother’s heart and despite the years of jealousy and competition for attention, Kitty would miss her little sister. She and Mary remained the only sisters not yet married, and the stigma entrenched itself in their proud mother’s determination to see all her daughters happily and successfully married.

  
Frances Bennet huffed and tapped her knuckles on top the gaming tabletop. “You’re holding us up. Leave your sister, Lizzy, and allow her to join the game!”  
Elizabeth stepped aside and bowed Lydia toward the table tucked in the far corner of the drawing room. Kitty tugged Lydia toward the table, Lydia giving in to the loneliness of being separated from her handsome, handsome husband. She tucked her skirts around her and shifted the seat several times before facing the cards in the center of the table waiting to be shuffled and distributed to all participants.

  
Mr. Darcy caught his wife’s eye and smirked. She hung her head and sat at the pianoforte with Mary.

  
“What shall we play today, Lizzy?” Mary asked over the minor conversation about the weather and Meryton’s latest gossip.

  
Collecting the loose-leaf sheets and flipping through them. Glancing at the title of the pieces, she discarded several and settled on the one she and Mary mastered over the years of playing together under the watchful eye of each other.

  
“Play something lively!” Lydia shouted from the gaming table.

  
“Yes, do play something with spirit.” Mr. Bingley quipped in good spirit.

  
Mr. Darcy laughed. “Charles, you are to read your book, not vote on the choice of music.”

  
“I disagree, Darcy. I am perfectly able to vote while reading.”

  
“As you wish, but if you will, I suggest we play something calm as the day is yet young and we have yet to fully gather around food and pray for the blessings.” Darcy seated himself on the settee and made himself directly visible to his dearest wife.

  
Focusing the music, Elizabeth battled her wits and embarrassment. “Please proceed, Mary. We shall play what we wish for we are the musicians.” She gestured broadly and grinned ear to ear.

  
A jaunty piece satisfied Lydia and Mr. Bingley while the purposefully contrary Mr. Darcy listened to it in good spirit. The game kicked into full swing when Noah Bennet and George Wickham entered the crowded drawing room. Elizabeth picked the next piece and plucked away at the keys with less confidence than Mary, lips pursed in concentration.

  
“Darcy, do you wish to join the game?” Mr. Bingley asked, predictably abandoning his book.

  
Jerking his gaze off his wife’s face, Fitzwilliam Darcy nodded. “A pity that Mrs. Hurst and Mrs. Alberts is unable to attend. They would clean the table of winnings on the worst of nights.” He jested lightly.

  
George Wickham distanced himself from Darcy and vice versa, both men cordial out of social necessity regardless of the Bennets’ propensity for occasional embarrassment. Missing a key, Elizabeth plugged forward in sheer determination. Her frustration echoed on her face as her eyes shifted on the keys in a slower, more mechanical movement with Mary patiently holding the music sheet and whispering something inaudible to the rest of the room.

  
“A pity indeed! My sisters are most capable at loo. It is why I never play them – at least not when funds are involved.” Charles stood near Jane and rested his hand on her shoulder. “Mr. Wickham, do you play loo often?”

  
“I am afraid I am breaking myself of the habit.” George Wickham answered easily, his voice lifting in a practiced manner adopted to on-demand manipulation. All except Frances and Lydia Bennet saw through this. “For the occasion, however, I am open to join the table. If the participants trust themselves to be formidable opponents.” His eyes twinkled and his charm dominated the room in an uneasy manner that rubbed Elizabeth wrong.

  
The tales he spun upset her but with the family initiation, she may not have to worry about him using his charm to sidestep his transgressions. Oh, certainly she looked forward to the evening when the candles would be lit, and everyone gathered around the dining table.

  
Lydia’s eyebrow comically arched, and Kitty rubbed her hands together in anticipation. Jane bowed out of the game and offered Mr. Wickham her seat. He skirted around her and seated himself. Cracking his knuckles, he waited to be dealt in.

  
Noah Bennet read his newspaper, a solid large sheet with more interesting stories than the activities of the drawing room altogether. He’d turn the page every ten minutes and abandoned the paper in favor of his hot tea before checking in on the steady game stacked in the favor of Lydia at the moment. Kitty pouted at the small pile of chips in front of her while Mrs. Bennet considered donating her last chips to her new son-in-law to hold off Lydia’s steady march toward victory. Elizabeth and Mary provided an hour’s worth of musical entertainment for the distracted room before resigning to needlepointing and discussing the current events at Pemberley. Seeing her opportunity seized, Lydia stole a victory from her husband.

  
“Impossible!” Kitty declared throwing her cards down. “You’re cheating.”

  
“I am not, and if I were today is about me.” Lydia declared smugly. “I should win everything today.”

  
Kitty’s face reddened. Jane and Mr. Bingley looked up from their game of chess, Mr. Darcy offering advice to both parties against their personal wishes. “You always cheat. I quit.” She stomped away and nearly tripped over her own feet in doing so.

  
Mr. Wickham faced with wife and then his mother-in-law. “I believe I am going to pile a plate with food and admire the cook’s hard work.” He pushed away from the table. Lydia smirked ear to ear and counted her ‘winnings’.

  
“I second your idea, Mr. Wickham.” Frances Bennet seconded.

  
Noah Bennet lowered his book and watched them leave over the top of his book. Once their heels were out of sight, he shook his head and returned to the captivating story that hooked him from end of chapter one.

  
“And will you be hosting the holidays this year?” Mary asked loud enough for everyone to listen in.

  
Elizabeth snipped the end of a thread and turned over the decorative pillowcase. “Are we, Fitz?” She asked her husband directly.

  
Mr. Darcy nodded. “Charles hosted it last year.”

  
“Yes, Mary, we are hosting it this year.” Elizabeth parroted, glowing because she looked forward to decorating Pemberley. “And next year, it will be hosted at Caroline’s.”

  
“And how is the lady? I remember you saying she married Mr. Alberts, but I do not recall much more than that.” Mary edged out the apple she created and swapped over to a green thread. Elizabeth handed her the squash pin cushion and placed it back on the side table repositioned between them. Their spools of thread filled a basket at their feet.

  
Mr. Darcy cringed.

  
Charles Bingley lifted his attention from the wooden chess board and considered answering Mary. He permitted Elizabeth the honor after Jane claimed a bishop piece and prided herself on the small victory.

  
“It is almost time for the initiation.” Noah Bennet announced to the room as Frances Bennet and George Wickham re-entered with plates full of second helpings. “Mary, Elizabeth, please prepare the dining table.”

  
“Yes, Papa.” Mary quickly wrapped up her project, Elizabeth lagging because of a tidier clean up, and the ladies disappeared into the dining room to help clean the table off, wipe it down, and lay out candles at the center of the table. Lucy, Sarah, Mr. Turner, and Mrs. Hill swept the floor and produced red colored place mats for each seat at the table.

  
Circular in design and made of a durable cloth dyed a deep red, the knitted placemats included the iconic B centered in stark white cloth.  
Mary paused and faced Elizabeth. “Were you nervous when Mr. Darcy pulled his card?”

  
Repositioning the candlestick, Elizabeth nodded. “It is the reason we are well off, Mary, and quite possibly why Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were drawn to Meryton.”  
They glanced toward the cracked door before facing each other again.

  
“What if he draws the unlucky card?”

  
“Then he will meet an unlucky end.” Elizabeth stated matter-of-factly.

  
Mary opened and closed her mouth, stumped on what to say although she knew what she wanted to communicate. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

  
“No.”

  
“Why not?”

  
Elizabeth’s lips twisted. “We must make sacrifices, and Mr. Wickham isn’t a true gentleman. It is a small loss, and Lydia will grow by the time she finds her next husband.”

  
“If. She is quite dramatic.” Mary rolled her eyes.

  
Ceasing her fussing to perfect the centering of the placemats, Elizabeth stared at Mary in shock. “Did you just- “

  
Mary rolled her eyes again. “I am not perfect, Lizzy.”

  
“It bothers you though.” Elizabeth pressed.

  
A herd of footsteps alerted the dining room of the rest of family’s entrance. Elizabeth waited for her husband and smiled nervously at him. He nodded once and awkwardly stood beside her. Jane and Mr. Bingley occupied the opposite seats, Mary, Kitty and Frances Bennet filling in the end of the table while her father, Lydia, and Mr. Wickham arranged themselves at the head of the table. Only Mrs. Hill stood in the room as Lucy ignited the candle wicks and excused herself to the kitchen with the rest of the gathered servants.

  
Noah Bennet gestured for everyone to seat themselves. A tense silence permeated the room, and all the married couples glanced toward each other grateful they were able to salvage their first marital partners.

  
Remaining standing Mr. Bennet smiled down at his son-in-law. “We have a tradition, Mr. Wickham. Handed down over the generations, new additions to the family must ‘test their luck’ as my grandfather explained.” He rolled his hands in the air before clasping them at his waistline. “No one truly knows how the tradition started, but it has seen us to our good fortunes today and we will not neglect it.”

  
A pin could be dropped in the room and heard.

  
“Before we start, Mrs. Hill, please pour the wine.”

  
Mrs. Hill bowed her head and moved forward with a bottle of wine George Wickham swore she wasn’t holding moments ago. She started with Mr. Bennet and worked her way around the table clockwise.

  
“George Wickham, I, Noah Bennet, formally welcome you to the Bennet family and greet you as a fully supported son-in-law I will be proud of this point onward.” Lydia huffed. Jane shot her a dirty look and shook her head briefly. Crossing her arms over her chest, the youngest Bennet appeared ready to protest this ridiculousness when she caught a dead stare from an oddly creepy Mrs. Hill. Shrinking in her seat, she shivered and wanted to be out of Longbourn and at the honeymoon cottage. “But before I am able to release you for the evening, you must test your luck one last time before you give up the habit of gambling beyond your means.”

  
Producing a deck of cards, pristine in condition, from his pocket, his lips twitched, and a toothy smile transformed his mustached face into one of pure enjoyment not witnessed once throughout the day. He handed the deck past Lydia to Jane. Without hesitation, Jane shuffled the deck with efficiency before handing it back. Likewise, he moved onto Kitty, Mary, Elizabeth, and lastly his wife before taking the five times shuffled deck and placing it in front of Mr. Wickham.  
“The rules are simple. You are not permitted to lay eyes on the value front. You are permitted to spread out the deck, lay out each card in any arrangement. You are permitted to take as much time as you need to select a card. There are two cards in the deck that are supremely important – one of great opportunity and one that is highly undesirable. The rest of the deck holds no value or importance. Pick wisely.”

  
“This is the family initiation?” George Wickham asked skeptically.

  
Mr. Bennet nodded and seated himself.

  
He studied the deck, perfect corners and unblemished backs with a simple black and white floral design. Tempted to turn them over, he stopped himself as everyone’s eyes were on him and only him. No one touched their wine. Wondering if he married into the wrong family, George seriously worried about his well-being.

  
Lydia leaned forward. “Oh, pick a card, Wicky. It is just a meaningless tradition.” Mrs. Hill placed herself by the kitchen entrance again, pointedly staring down Lydia. Relatively ignored by the rest of the family, the creepy housekeeper held an empty bottle.Holding up a finger to his wife, George Wickham refused to randomly select a card and try his luck purely on chance.

  
Spreading the cards out into a fan, he ran his fingertips over the edges and plucked at the corner. A chill ran up his arm and he retracted his hand.

  
“Hurry up!” Lydia pressured. “It’s cold.”

  
“Hush, Dear.” George scolded her. “This is serious business.”

  
Flickering candles cast shadows on the cards, and he rubbed his hands together. Bowing his head and praying quickly, Mr. Wickham slid one card out of the deck.

  
“Do not reveal the card yet, Mr. Wickham.” Noah Bennet announced. Everyone raised their glass to the candles, now perfectly still and acting normal. “A toast-“ Lydia motioned for her husband to lift his glass to the center of the table. He reluctantly joined the group. “To the Bennets and those who have joined us in matrimonial ties.”

  
Everyone murmured the toast before sipping their wine and letting out a breath.

  
It slipped down his throat cold and sweet, almost too sweet. He glanced around the table, hooking on the dead stare of the black-eyed Mrs. Hill. His chest constricted. Forcing an outward of appearance that nothing was wrong, he clutched his chest.

  
“Are you ready to leave, Wicky?” Lydia finished her wine and hopped out of her seat. She stepped around her father, ignorant of the perfectly still Mrs. Hill, and moved to hold her husband in her arms. “Finally, the day is over.”

  
“Yes, finally.” Noah Bennet announced.

  
George Wickham face planted into the table.

  
Kitty flinched and Mary bowed her head to pray. Elizabeth and Jane appeared indifferent, with Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy side eyeing the motionless body slumped over in the chair. Frances Bennet’s lips pursed.

  
“I liked him.”

  
“Mama! What is wrong?” Lydia shook her husband’s shoulders gently at first, then more frantically as the seconds passed. “Jane?”

  
“We should be returning to Netherfield Park.” Mr. Bingley announced, his voice changing. He cleared his throat and hustled from the dining room with Mr. Darcy behind him.

  
Jane and Elizabeth lingered. “What was the card, Papa?”

  
“What do you mean ‘What was the card?’ Wicky!” She frantically felt around George Wickham’s neck in search of a pulse. “Someone help!” George Wickham snapped to, his eyes the same black as Mrs. Hill’s. He inhaled sharply and sat upright slowly. Lydia threw her arms around her husband and clutched tightly. “Oh Wicky! You fooled me.”

  
Noah Bennet flipped over the card. “Uh, Mrs. Hill, I see.”

  
Mrs. Hill bowed to Mr. Bennet and exited the dining room. Elizabeth and Jane filed out with Mary and Kitty. Frances waited with her daughter, catching her husband’s eye and nodding. Noah and France Bennet walked out Mr. and Mrs. George Wickham.

  
“What a joke! I always knew you had a sense of humor. But promise me to never do that to me again, Wicky.” Lydia rambled on.

  
Stiffly holding her hand, the new George Wickham kissed his wife’s knuckles and promised to never play such a cruel trick on her again.

  
The servants turned toward Mrs. Hill when she entered the kitchen.

  
Soul less shells shuffled to fulfill daily duties without regard to the limits of the natural body. A glimpse of herself in the mirror, Mrs. Hill reflected back Satan in his true form.


End file.
